A Brother's Struggle
by supernatural.psyche
Summary: The storm raging outside that pounded the roof and rattled the windows mirrored the inner turmoil of one Winchester while performing a "simple" exorcism. But for the Winchesters, can anything ever truly be simple? --Bobby makes an appearance.--
1. Chapter 1

Lightening snaked through the sky as thunder rumbled in the distance. Moon and stars were hidden behind immense clouds, resulting in a South Dakota night blacker than pitch. Rain fell in torrents, flooding the gutters and lining the driveway with crater-sized puddles.

Within the house, the lights flickered once, twice, and then went out completely, casting the house in darkness save for the firelight dancing over the Key of Solomon painted on the ceiling. Whether the cause of the power outage was the storm or the demon trapped at the center of the room was inconsequential.

Snarls and obscenities, originating from beneath the devil's trap, echoed off the walls and competed with the roar of the storm raging outside. Rough hemp raised angry red welts where the rope bit into the wrists and denim-clad legs of the demon-possessed man while he shouted at the dark and seemingly empty room.

"Come out, come out wherever you are!" he mocked, stretching his lips into a wicked sneer. "If you want a piece of me, you're not gonna get it while hiding in the shadows like a coward!"

Making a show of pulling at his bindings, he smirked and continued, "I'd come to you, but you seem to be into that S and M kinky crap. Just promise you'll still respect me in the morning."

"You've got a smart mouth for a demon about to be shagging ass back to hell."

The rumble of a low, deadly voice had the demon's head shooting up and focusing on the shadows where the sound had emanated.

A tall shadow separated itself from the darkened corner of the room.

The scathing retort died on the lips of the demon and he ceased his struggles as the lean man stepped into the wavering light cast by the fire.

Deftly covering his hesitation, the demon replied with a forced grin, "Ahhh. Should've known. You Winchester boys always were into bondage."

Seeing the hunter's jaw tighten, the demon continued with a sly smile, "But it seems we're one Winchester short. Tell me, Sammy, where is that big brother of yours?"

However, the demon's mocking tone soon turned into screams of anguish as holy water was thrown in his face.

The hunter leaned down until he was on eye level with the ensnared demon squirming in pain and pulling at his bindings.

Teeth bared, the hunter growled, "It's _Sam_."

Breath hitching as smoke rose from his damp skin, the demon only glared in response.

Both hunter and hunted stared at each other for the span of several heartbeats as rain mercilessly pummeled the roof and thunder vibrated the windows.

"Okay, Princess. How's about we make a deal? I'll call you _Sam_ if you let me out of this trap."

"You want to make a deal? Okay, how about this one," with lightening speed, Sam had the demon's head pulled back by the hair and a knife held to his lips, "I'll cut out your tongue, then I won't have to worry about your smart mouth at all."

The demon gulped as the razor-sharp tip of the knife pricked his lower lip.

"Aeh liked dah virst deal 'etter," he slurred against the knife point.

Sam released the demon, sending him slamming forward as the chair settled back onto all four legs.

"Touchy, aren't we?" The demon grunted. "Easy, Sammy, you wouldn't want to damage this fine packaging." The demon grinned again and a tiny drop of blood oozed from his lip where the knife had pierced the skin.

"That's it. You wanna play, you demonic son of a bitch?"

The demon watched, wide-eyed, as Sam thrust the blade of the knife into the wood floor at his feet then pulled a gun from the back of his waistband. Venom dripping from his voice, the hunter held the end of the long barrel to the demon's forehead, "Fine. Let's play."

"You wouldn't." Doubt crept into the demon's voice, undermining his confident words as he fought to not recoil from the cold metal of the Colt pressed between his eyebrows.

"Oh I wouldn't? Huh," Sam raised his eyebrows and the light from the fire glinted off his cold eyes as he cocked the gun, "You sure about that?"

"Sam." The gruff voice had both hunter and demon turning their heated gazes on the doorway.

"I need to talk to you for a minute." the voice continued, vibrating with tension and strain.

"Kinda busy right now," Sam replied coolly as he turned his attention back to the demon glaring at the hunters.

"_Sam_. It wasn't a request."

Hearing the underlying threat in the rigid command, Sam's eyes narrowed and remained locked on the depthless black of the demon's. A muscle in his jaw twitched as he pushed back from the demon and after securing the Colt, shoved it into the back of his waistband. Eyes still on the demon, the shaggy-haired hunter reached down and pulled the knife from the floor, sheathing it at his ankle. As he turned toward the doorway, the demon chuckled.

"Geeze, Sammy. Never thought _you_ would need a leash. Although with that hair, you do kinda look like a dog. A sad little kicked puppy, lashing out at anyone who comes near. It'd be heartbreaking if it wasn't so pathetic."

If the other hunter hadn't had such quick reflexes, Sam would have ripped the demon to shreds with his bare hands. He had turned on his heel and was already halfway back to the laughing demon when two strong arms came around his waist and tugged.

"Damn it, Sam! He's just wheedling you! Now stop fighting me and get your ass in the kitchen! _Now!_"

Sam did as the voice commanded and stopped struggling to free himself from the grip of the elder hunter. Nostrils flaring, he shot a heated glare at the demon in the center of the room. Straightening, he tugged his shirt back into place and stalked into the kitchen without a backward glance.

Sam paced the room like a caged animal.

"Damn it, Sam. You're gonna get yourself killed if you keep lettin' demons rile you up like that! What the hell were you thinking, anyway? That's a man out there, Sam," he gestured to the other room, "Yeah he's possessed by a demon, but you can't just go killing humans!"

Sam stopped pacing, mid-stride, and turned to face the man staring at him as if he'd just grown another head.

"What was I thinking? I was thinking that this is a friggin war and that there're gonna be casualties."

The hunter's eyes widened. "Casualties? Sammy, what the hell's gotten into you?"

The air left the hunter's lungs in a _whoosh _as he found himself pinned to the wall by Sam's sinewy forearms.

"Dean..." Taking an unsteady breath, Sam continued, "Dean… was the only one who got to call me Sammy." Releasing the hunter, Sam stepped back and plunged his hands into his hair. Taking a deep breath as his nostrils flared and his jaw trembled, he turned away from the bewildered hunter still leaning against the wall. "Sorry, Bobby. I'll take care of the demon." After a few steps, and without breaking stride on his way back to the demon, he added, "Without killing the man."

Bobby shook his head sadly. "That boy's gonna snap…" _And I can't watch him go over the edge when he's so set to self-destruct, _he added under his breath.

With another sad shake of his head, the elder hunter patted his pockets in search of the keys to his truck. After finding them and pulling on a heavy jacket, Bobby Singer left the only person still alive that mattered to him inside his house with a demon as he walked out into the storm, closing the door behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

"Ahh he's back. Did daddy ground you? Take away your driving privileges?"

Sam's jaw clenched as he ignored the demon and walked over to his duffle bag sitting on the floor on the far side of the room.

"Uh oh. Sammy's mad at me now. Was it something I said?" The smirking demon watched Sam as he pulled a small notebook out of the army green bag.

"Aww how cute. The big bad demon hunter is gonna exorcise me. Doesn't have the balls to get his hands dirty and actually _kill _me."

Sam's jaw was clenched so tight he was afraid he'd be spitting out teeth soon. Still refusing to respond to the demon's goading, he walked over to stand in front of the fireplace so the light could illuminate the pages of the worn journal.

The demon chuckled to hide his agitation.

"You think you're so good cuz you won't kill humans. Unless, of course, you _have to_." The demon rolled his eyes and squirmed in his chair, trying to turn his head enough to catch a glimpse of Sam standing behind him at the fireplace. "Newsflash, Sammy, you've killed more than I ever have. Well, not counting my previous life, of course. But since Dean died, you've gone on the rampage, killing everything and anything that crosses you. Is it true that you ripped a vampire's head off with your bare hands? Damn, man. It was bad enough when you took out Gordon with just some barbed wire, but your _bare hands_? Crap. That's cold, dude."

Sam's gaze had wandered from the journal to stare at the flames crackling in the fireplace, reminiscing. Scenes from a previous life flashed through his mind, a life with Dean. _Driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole._ Of course, Sam would never have dreamed of telling Dean that he actually _liked _his classic rock. He couldn't believe it had been a year since… Images of Dean bleeding to death in his arms pervaded his mind. The flames licking the interior of the fireplace blurred as Sam sniffled and struggled to swallow past the lump in his throat.

"What are you doing back there, Sammy? The least you could do is exorcise me to my face. You'll rip a vampire's head right off his shoulders and not blink, but you can't stand to watch as you send me to your brother? I'll tell him you said 'hi', by the way."

Sam Winchester saw red.  
Bright, crimson, blood red.

No longer caring about the human life the demon had overtaken, Sam whipped out the knife and held it to the demon's throat from behind.

"Let's see you talk with your vocal chords sliding down your shirt," he growled directly into the demon's ear.

"Aww Sammy. You and I both know that that knife can't hurt me," the demon gasped out, then raised his eyebrows and smirked as he continued, "but it would do major damage to Bob here. Now wouldn't that be a shame?"

Sam's entire body trembled with rage. "Bob's probably already dead anyway."

"True. But do you want to make a shish-ka-Bob without knowing for sure?" The demon grinned, greatly amused by his own joke.

"Demons are notorious for riding the bodies they possess hard. Besides, it would be worth it to shut you up."

"Riding bodies hard?" the demon chuckled, "That's kinda naughty, Sammy. And we've already covered this, remember? Your little pig-sticker can't hurt me. Geeze, didn't that smart ass brother of yours teach you anything?"

Sam pulled back on the knife, drawing it completely flush with the skin and forcing the demon's head back even further.

"Maybe you've heard of a demon named Ruby…" Sam grinned as the demon went completely still, no longer even straining against the ropes. "Thought you probably had."

"Well then, what the hell are you waiting for? Finish the job!" the demon roared.

Sam gritted his teeth and was about to draw the blade across the demon's exposed neck…  
But years of combating evil and defending the sanctity of life intervened.

He closed his eyes and his whispered word was soft, but firm. "No."

"_No? _You have _got _to be kidding me. Seriously, dude, you need to grow some _cajones_ if you can't even off a demon."

Sam laughed humorlessly. "I'm not gonna kill you. But I am gonna send your demonic ass back to hell."

With a roar, the demon thrashed in his chair, pulling at his bindings.

"Oh and just so you know, my smart ass brother taught me how to tie those knots."

With a smirk of his own, Sam walked back over to the fireplace and retrieved his father's journal from the floor where it had fallen when he'd attacked the demon. Finding the page, he began to recite the Latin phrases as familiar to him as his own voice, "_Ut wisi enim ad minim veniam quis nostrud exerci tation ullamcorper suscipit_ _lobortis nisl ut aliquip ex ea commodo consequat…" _

The demon thrashed even harder, blood oozed from the wounds at his wrists as his entire body strained against expulsion.

Sam continued, undaunted, "_Duis autem vel eum iriure dolor in hendrerit in vulputate velit esse molestie consequat, vel illum dolore eu feugiat nulla facilisis…"_

The head of the possessed man was thrown back and black smoke began to exude from between his lips.

Sam's voice grew louder with each word, "_vero eros et accumsan et iusto odio dignissim qui blandit praesent_—"

"Sammy! Don't!" The demon's plea, but mostly the depth of emotion behind the words, halted Sam's steady stream of Latin. The hunter's eyes darted from the page of the journal to the demon bowed out of the chair beneath the devil's trap painted on the ceiling.

Suddenly, an earlier phrase from the demon popped into the forefront of Sam's memory.

"Gordon," he whispered.

Once again dropping the journal where he stood, Sam raced to the front of the chair and grabbed the demon, which had reverted back into the body of the man, by the collar of his shirt. Pulling him up as far as the ropes would allow, Sam barked into the face of the demon, "How'd you know about Gordon?"

"Demons…" the demon's head lolled back as his chest heaved, "talk."

"Demons talk? Okay that's true…" Sam conceded, "But there weren't any demons around that day and we salted and burned Gordon's body. And in fact, only two other people knew about the barbed wire. One of those two is Bobby, 'cause we told him. The other…" More phrases ran through the hunter's mind.

_Sammy, you've killed more than I ever have. Well, not counting my previous life, of course._

_Riding bodies hard? That's kinda naughty, Sammy._

_Seriously, dude, you need to grow some _cajones_ if you can't even off a demon._

But it wasn't just the words; it was the snarky tone behind all of them.

_I'd come to you, but you seem to be into that S and M kinky crap. Just promise you'll still respect me in the morning._

And the affectionate tone behind the last plea.

_Sammy! Don't!_

Sam's grip loosened as his eyes widened.

"The only other one who knew," he continued in a hushed voice, "was you, Dean."

The demon raised his head and met Sam's unwavering gaze.

"In the flesh." Grinning crookedly, he amended his statement, "Uhh, well. You get the idea."


	3. Chapter 3

"I don't get it, Dean. Why didn't you just tell me? And the stuff you said…" Sam ran his hands over his face and Dean winced.

"I'm so sorry, Sammy," Dean's voice cracked as he remembered all he had said to his little brother. "I just… I didn't want you to know what I'd… become." He shook his head and scoffed with a wry smile, "But it's not like you would've believed me, anyway."

Sam's sad grin matched his brother's as he nodded. Dean had him there.

"And I couldn't go back to hell."

Sam grimaced as Dean's jaw clenched and his voice nearly broke, "I couldn't go back there, Sammy. So I knew…" Pausing to mimic his brother's movement of scrubbing his face, Dean dropped back into the chair. Sam had removed the bindings, but hadn't yet freed Dean from the devil's trap. The restraint saddened both brothers, but both also knew it was necessary. Wearily, he continued, "I knew that I only had one other option." His glistening eyes lifted to the brother he hadn't seen in far too long. "I knew that if you shot me, with the Colt…" The implied thought remained unspoken, but was as obvious as if Dean had shouted the words. "So I was trying to piss you off enough that you'd shoot, instead of exorcise."

"It almost worked." Sam's voice reflected the anguish the conversation was causing him.

Even though the storm still raged outside, inside the house, the silence was palpable.

Their eyes met and held as they shared another sad smile.

"Dean, I'll—"

"No." Dean's emphatic statement brought Sam up short and had his eyebrows drawing together. "Don't look at me like that, Sammy. I know what you were gonna say. You were gonna say that you would save me. And you can't." Sighing, Dean leaned back in the chair and spread his arms to his sides. "You can't save me, Sam. Not from this." Leaning forward to emphasize his next point, he continued, "And you have to stop punishing everything and everyone for my…" Dean cleared his throat and tried again, "for what happened. I mean, killing evil bastards is great." Dean looked down and grinned self-effacingly, "Well, most of the time, anyway."

Sam fought to speak around the lump in his throat, "You're not evil, Dean."

Dean grinned humorlessly and raised an eyebrow as he rebutted, "Not evil? Come on, Sammy! I'm a demon. Demons are, by definition, evil sons of bitches."

Sam half grinned at the familiar refrain. "So now you're the bitch?" The grin soon stretched across his entire face.

Dean's smile matched it as he replied, "Nah, Sammy. You're still the bitch. I wouldn't want to take that away from you."

Sam actually laughed. "Great. Thanks. Jerk."

Silence stretched between them once again, each caught in his own memories.

With a sigh, Sam dragged a chair over in front of Dean. But instead of sitting in it, Sam climbed into the seat and pulled the knife from his ankle scabbard.

Dean's smile dropped as he jumped to his feet.

"Sam. What are you doing?"

"Well, Dean, " Sam replied as he scraped a chunk of paint from the circle of the devil's trap, "if I can't save you," having finished his task, Sam hopped down from the chair and faced his wide-eyed brother, "I'm sure as hell not gonna keep you from saving yourself."

"Sam, you shouldn't—"

"Dean. I don't make it a habit to trust demons." At Dean's look of skepticism, Sam blushed slightly and amended, "Well. Except you. And Ruby. But that was—"

Dean laughed and cut him off, "Sure, Sammy."

Stepping from under the Key of Solomon, Dean clapped his little brother on the shoulder, then pulled him into a full embrace.

Both brothers choked up and fought tears as the year apart seemed to melt away.

With a final squeeze, Dean stepped back. "I'll be seeing you, Sammy. Tell Bobby…" Dean chuckled as he pictured the reaction of the man who had been a second father to the brothers. "Hell, I don't know. Use your own judgment with that, I guess."

Sam laughed as he nodded with a smile and wiped his face, replying, "Well, that'll be a fun conversation." Growing serious, he added, "Be careful, Dean."

Dean's snarky grin on another man's face was still completely Dean. "Hey, I'm always careful, Sammy."

Dean turned with a smile at the roll of Sam's eyes, but after taking a few steps, turned back. "Oh Sam, by the way," seeing that he had the young hunter's attention, he continued, "Take care of Bob, will ya? He's been through a lot tonight, poor bastard."

Sam's eyebrows drew together, but Dean was already flowing from the man's body in a cloud of thick black smoke. Bob hit the floor with a loud _thud _as Sam looked on, heartbroken to be losing his brother once again. "I'll save you, Dean. I'll find a way," he whispered vehemently.

Bob's moan drew Sam's attention.

Sam's eyes widened as he kneeled to check for a pulse. Finding it beating strongly beneath his finger tips, Sam closed his eyes as he thought about how close he'd come to killing the man. And his own brother.

A noise from the doorway had Sam spinning and standing in one fluid movement to see Bobby shaking the rain from his ever-present trucker hat. However, his hat lay forgotten in his fingers as Bobby noticed the extra chair and the demon-less man lying on the floor five feet from the edge of the devil's trap. Turning befuddled eyes to Sam, he asked, "Did I miss somethin'?"

Bobby's already confused expression became even more puzzled as Sam burst into laughter, put a hand on Bobby's shoulder, and responded only with, "Yeah. You could say that."

Glancing from the unconscious man on the floor to the broken circle of the devil's trap on the ceiling, then back to Bobby, Sam's smile became determined. "We've got work to do."

**THE END**

**Thanks everyone for reading! waves**

**Oh and like most people, I would REALLY love feedback. :) **


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